The Beauty of a Short Life

“Thank you for saving our village, Hero.”

“….”

“To think you defeated the Four Heavenly Kings all by yourself! That is truly incredible!”

“…….”

“Y-you even took down the Demon King so easily…!”

Hehe.

Of course. Do you have any idea how much I’ve played this game?

To a veteran like me, the Demon King was nothing more than a light snack.

Even if you combined all the information posted on the internet, they wouldn’t know half of what I do, right?

Maybe it’s only natural, considering I did nothing but play this game outside of sleeping and eating…

Thud. A dull, heavy impact struck the back of my head. My vision blurred for a moment.

“Gaming again?”

My father’s voice was low and rough. That was exactly why it was so terrifying.

“F-Father?”

“Damn it. Are you still glued to that computer, playing around? Do you find my words funny? Huh?”

My father staggered as he walked, drunk, taking one step after another toward me.

“D-don’t come any closer…”

My voice was always like this.

Small, faint, as if it were trying to crawl back into my throat.

Perhaps it was because I had lived my whole life walking on eggshells. I naturally held my breath before I even spoke.

In case I bothered him. In case he got angry.

And so, in the end, my voice had become so quiet that even I could barely understand what I was saying.

“Still can’t fix that stuttering habit? Anyway, I told you to keep the fridge stocked with booze. Do you think I’m a joke?”

Slap—

My vision shook. My cheek burned, and I could taste blood in my mouth.

“I should have killed both you and your mother who ran away.”

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll go buy some right now!”

I left my drunken, staggering father behind, grabbed my coat, and rushed out the door.

“Damn it! Where do you think you’re going when your father is talking to you!”

I held back the tears welling up in my eyes and headed toward the convenience store.

Jingle—

As I opened the door and stepped inside, a clerk I’d never seen before greeted me.

“Welcome. This is a 24-hour convenience store…”

The clerk’s gaze swept over me.

The bright, professional tone of his voice cut off midway.

It was only natural.

My hair was matted and unkempt. The smell clung to me because I couldn’t wash properly. My clothes were stained with grime, and bruises were scattered across my skin.

And my posture—cowering, unable to even meet someone’s eyes.

The clerk’s expression, frozen for a moment, slowly twisted.

It was only for a split second, but I recognized it all too well.

Contempt. Disgust. Revulsion.

It was the gaze I had always received.

I was a child who didn’t deserve to be loved.

No.

I was a dirty child, one who deserved to be hated.

A failure that even my mother had no choice but to abandon.

That was me.

“Customer. I’m sorry, but could you make your purchase quickly and leave?”

The clerk stepped out from behind the counter. He had a sturdy build, easily over 180cm tall. As his thick arms and sharp, hardened expression drew closer, I felt like I was suffocating.

My shoulders trembled involuntarily.

Intimidation.

It was a familiar sensation.

It felt just like the moments when my father approached me while drunk.

I reflexively bowed my head. I was terrified of making eye contact.

“J-j-just a moment…”

I dragged my trembling legs and barely managed to grab the alcohol.

“P-please ring this up…”

“…Sigh.”

The clerk looked down at me and let out a sigh.

“Do you have an ID? I have to check for alcohol.”

……What?

My mind went completely blank.

The previous clerk, an older sister, had known my situation.

She knew how my father beat me if there was no alcohol. She knew why I came to buy it every night.

So she had always let it slide without a word.

But this new clerk couldn’t possibly know.

If I couldn’t buy the alcohol like this…?

Naturally, the verbal abuse and violence would be directed at me.

I was already struggling just to stand these days. I was terrified of the misfortune that was about to befall me.

Haa… haa…

I had to explain. But my lips wouldn’t move at all.

“…Sigh.”

He rubbed his face with his hand, sighed again, and glanced around.

“……Customer. I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“…!”

“But from next time, you absolutely must come with a guardian. You understand?”

“…Yes.”

The boy, trembling, clutched the bottle as if afraid the clerk would change his mind, then rushed out of the store.

“Go slowly! You’ll trip!”

The clerk muttered as he watched the boy run away.

“Should I call the police…?”

I returned home, left my father sleeping on the living room floor, and went into my room.

Then, I habitually pressed the power button on my computer.

Astral Saga

The game I had poured my entire life into.

Was it popular? Not really.

Of course, it had diverse choices, NPC reactions that changed based on those choices, and multiple endings. It wasn’t just flat characters, but three-dimensional ones. This applied not only to allies but to the villains as well.

They didn’t just slaughter humans for no reason; every villain had a reason they were forced to turn to darkness. You could even reform them and make them your allies, though it was incredibly difficult.

I myself had managed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to make every villain an ally at least once.

So why wasn’t a game this good popular…?

The first reason was that there were too many choices. Dozens of branches existed for a single action, and the story, character reactions, and even the ending changed based on those results.

And yet, it didn’t support saving, so you can imagine how unfriendly it was.

It was common to have to try dozens of times just to get the ally you wanted. Getting the desired ending was even harder.

Even so, it lacked that ‘something’ to make people feel the charm despite the inconvenience.

Whirrr—

This piece-of-junk computer took five seconds just to turn on the internet and couldn’t run most games. You could tell how lacking the graphics were just by the fact that it could run this game at all.

No. It wasn’t just lacking; it was miserable.

With graphics that looked like they were drawn in MS Paint and a crude UI, most people quit before they could even get past the entry barrier. There were plenty of alternatives to a game like this.

But for me, who had no other games that would run, I had no choice.

After gritting my teeth and playing it, I realized this game was a new world.

To me, who had saved people, protected villages, and even saved the world—they sent me gratitude, respected me, and even ‘loved’ me.

Yes. Love. Love for a piece of trash like me.

I couldn’t just end it with one playthrough. I kept creating characters and saving the world with countless jobs. That was how I spent over three years, doing nothing but eating and playing this game.

And now, a sequel to such a game.

It was worth stealing my father’s alcohol money bit by bit to buy it. I was so happy that even the beatings from my father, who hit me for saying the money was gone, didn’t hurt at all.

With a fluttering heart, I turned on the game.

The familiar character creation screen.

Naturally, the gender was female. If I had chosen a male character… the reality of myself would have come to mind, and I wouldn’t have been able to continue the game.

A face covered in scars. Messy hair. Slumped shoulders. A child who wasn’t loved by anyone. That was the real me.

Unlike the me who was hated, I made her as sparkling and beautiful as possible, so she could be loved as much as she could.

Black bobbed hair that resembled the night sky. Eyes that shone like rubies. A small, delicate frame, and a face so pretty that anyone would want to protect her.

Even if it was just in a game, I could be someone who was loved, unlike myself.

With the appearance settings finished, I opened the stat window.

[Strength]

[Agility]

[Intelligence]

[Luck]

[Charm (new!)]

Strength was physical attack. Health was HP and survival. Agility was attack speed and critical hit rate. Intelligence was magic attack and MP. Luck was the stat that influenced rare events and drop rates.

I was familiar with these.

But.

Charm…?

…Love?

If I thought about it seriously, it was a trash stat. It didn’t help with combat at all. It didn’t increase attack power, nor did it increase health.

Just favorability.

A stat where NPCs would smile at me more often, and allies would love me more.

That was all it was.

But perhaps it was because I had projected myself onto the character…?

As soon as I saw the word ‘love,’ tears welled up. To me, who had been abandoned by my mother and raised by a father who beat me, love was no different from a drug.

As if possessed, I began to invest in Charm.

I set all other stats to the minimum and put everything into Charm.

Even the most important trait was…

In Astral Saga, Luck was an important stat. It was a game where random events played a huge role.

It was a trait that most users would never choose.

Just as I was about to click ‘Create Character,’ the last bit of reason left in me stopped me.

‘If I make a character like this, I’ll just fail!’

In a game that was already difficult and didn’t support saving, making a character like this was no different from saying I was going to quit the game.

It was the moment I was agonizing over character creation.

I heard the sound of a police siren in the distance.

But I felt nothing. It was a common occurrence in the neighborhood I lived in.

Drunken shouting. The sound of breaking glass bottles. Sirens wailing every dawn.

I was used to it now.

But.

The siren sound was getting closer.

No way.

Knock, knock.

Along with the sound of someone knocking on the door, a low, firm voice was heard.

“This is the police. We received a report of domestic violence. Please open the door.”

…Domestic violence?

For a moment, the face of the clerk I had met at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the convenience store earlier flashed through my mind.

He had looked at me and his expression had hardened. Did he report it for my sake…?

But the report meant nothing.

My father would always be released with a single sentence, wearing a good-natured smile: “I guess the discipline was a bit excessive. I’ll be careful from now on.”

There was truly no action taken. Not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even for my opinion.

And then, I was beaten like a dog.

My body started trembling without me realizing it.

‘I have to run.’

I reflexively ran toward the police.

That moment.

“You bitch…! I told you I’d kill you if you reported me one more time!”

My father, who had woken up at some point, came running with a knife.

He was still staggering from the alcohol, but my body, paralyzed by terror, couldn’t move at all.

“I raised you, and you don’t even know gratitude and call the police?”

No. I really don’t know anything about that.

But my mouth, frozen in terror, wouldn’t ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠move.

Stab.

A strange sensation felt deep in my stomach.

Ah.

My stomach felt warm. Strangely, it didn’t hurt.

I just stared as the red blood slowly soaked into my clothes.

Zzzzt.

At that moment, the monitor began to shine. The screen glowed so brightly I couldn’t open my eyes.

“…Astral Saga 2.”

I really wanted to try it…

Leaving my regrets behind, I closed my eyes.